Repentance
by Temper
Summary: All but one of Jadis’ handmaidens died in the battle against Aslan. Sylvia, a bitter water nymph, escapes to the Western Woods and goes into hiding, but it is not long before she is discovered by none other than Tumnus, the Faun.
1. Through the Broken Door

**Repentance**

_Chapter One: Through the Broken Door_

The sky was growing dark by the time I came to the Great River. I did not know how long I had been running, nor how far I had come, but I was infinitely glad to have found water. I stood on the tree-lined riverbank looking down, the whirling and swirling of my thoughts mirroring the tossing foam below. A warm breeze was drifting westwards from the far sea, but I was chilled to the bone.

The Queen was dead.

I crouched down and stared at my reflection in the clear, flowing water. A pale, feminine face surrounded by locks of liquid-smooth hair stared back at me. I could easily have passed for a Daughter of Eve if I had wanted to, but the very thought of doing so disgusted me. It was the children that had destroyed my mistress and my livelihood. I looked down at my webbed toes and flexed my fingers—the small flaps of skin between them were the only things that marked me as different from my human cousins, and at that moment I was thankful for them.

From behind me there came a distant clamour of voices and the sound of a great many creatures moving through the undergrowth. Without hesitation, I jumped forward into the water and swam upstream, paying no heed to the sharp roots and weeds that tore at my dress. I knew that my kind could outswim any beast in Narnia, and after a few moments I had left the riverbank far behind.

I estimated that about an hour had passed when I finally pulled myself out of the river and stood on firm soil, shaking out my hair and listening for signs of movement. The foliage was much thicker here. In fact, if I was not mistaken, these were the Western Woods. A smile lit my features as I set off into the trees, feeling my skin begin to dry off in the breeze. I now had to find somewhere secret to stay.

I was not accustomed to living alone. From quite an early age my residence had been at the castle. My mother had been one of Jadis' handmaidens, and when she died it seemed only natural that I would take over from her. It had been a pleasant life. I spent my days tailoring dresses and cooking. It never occurred to me to question the Queen's authority, for it seemed Narnia was running smoothly under her rule. Now she was dead, and so were the other handmaidens—my sisters. I felt a flash of anger and swiped viciously at the leaves as I walked.

I continued under cover of darkness for what seemed like half the night. The moon above me was full and bright, and I had to dart through the greenery, concealing myself in the shadows to avoid being seen. I shot wary glances at the trees as I passed them. I knew that the dryads—a species I was closely related to—were steadfastly loyal to Aslan and would betray my presence without a moment's hesitation should I reveal myself.

Eventually, when it seemed the sky could not grow any darker and the stars were peering out from behind navy clouds, I stopped to rest. I had found a trickling brook, and bent down to drink from it. At that moment I heard a rustling behind me, and when I turned I saw with horror the figure of a tree spirit, forming gradually from swirling leaves. I did not know whether it had seen me so I turned and ran, fleeing through the undergrowth, paying no heed to the noise I was making. I could hear whispered voices behind me, silky-smooth, and the light pattering of feet. Panic rose in me as I burst through a thicket of trees into a small clearing.

I was trapped.

Ahead of me was a tall rock face, towering high into the sky. Behind me were the woods through which the spirits were approaching. I was about to turn, preparing myself to confront them, when I noticed a dark opening at the base of the cliff. Hoping it wasn't occupied by anything malicious, I fled over the grass towards it.

As I drew closer I saw a wooden door hanging off its hinges, half-covering the entrance. I glanced back quickly and saw a dozen murky shapes looming between the trees. I hurriedly slipped inside. I hid behind the door and tried to control my breathing. Hissing voices and the quiet rustle of skin against leaves reached my ears. Finally, there was silence. A few minutes passed before I was sure the spirits had gone. I poked my head around the doorframe and watched the swaying trees outside for any signs of movement. Nothing stirred, so I stepped away from the entrance, turned, and surveyed the cave.

It took me a moment to realise that it was, in fact, somebody's house. Moonlight streamed in through the open door and windows, illuminating the carpet, the wooden shelves, and the spindly furniture. I took a hesitant step forward. It seemed the place had been ransacked. A chair lay broken on its side. The scarlet curtains had been ripped from their hangings. There was something that looked horribly like blood on the floor near the window.

Another step forward, and something crackled under my foot. Looking down, I saw that it was a sheet of parchment. I dropped into a crouch and studied it in the dim light.

_The former occupant of these premises, Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge of high treason against her Imperial Majesty Queen Jadis, Queen of Narnia._

_Signed,_

_Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police. Long live the Queen!_

I let the parchment drift to the floor and thought back to the days before the battle. I vaguely recalled someone by the name of Tumnus being hauled through the chambers of the palace by the wolves. At the time I had not paid much attention to him—I had been busy helping the Queen prepare for her meeting with Aslan. I shook my head slightly and straightened up. Tumnus, whoever he was, had been a fool, and had probably lost his life as a consequence.

Through a small door at the back of the room, I found a circular bedroom. It did not seem to have been ravaged. I climbed under the warm bedcovers and lay listening to the wind whistling through the trees outside. Perhaps I could stay here, I thought. After all, it did not look like the owner would be coming back. I decided to think more on the matter in the morning and let my eyes flutter closed. It was not long before I fell into a fitful sleep.


	2. Nymphs and Their Ways

**Repentance**

_Chapter Two: Nymphs and Their Ways_

I was woken by the distant sound of birds chirping. Rolling over and blinking in the early-morning gloom, I forgot for a moment where I was. The soft fabric of the bedcovers felt like silk against my skin, and I enjoyed the sensation for several minutes before remembering the events that had taken place in the night. I recalled the tree spirits, the frantic dash through the forest, and my discovery of the cave. I rubbed my eyes blearily and sat up, feeling suddenly slightly uneasy. The silence pounded in my ears as I listened hard for any sounds that might indicate a presence in the house. A minute passed. Satisfied, I clambered out of the bed and slowly pushed open the door.

The raided cave looked ten times worse in daylight. I noticed shreds of fabric littering the carpet and a few torn books scattered about. I picked my way across the floor towards the front window. When I reached out to touch the red curtains, they came off in my hand. I sighed and looked over the wreckage with a critical eye. I supposed it would not hurt to tidy it before I left. It seemed wrong to leave such a cosy house in such a terrible state.

First of all, I righted the door and managed to mend the hinges with some nails and a hammer I had found in a drawer. They still creaked a little, but they would do. I picked everything up off the carpet. The books were still readable despite being ripped, so I placed them back on the shelves. One volume, entitled _Nymphs and Their Ways_, caught my eye, and I became distracted from my task. I spent a good half an hour reading it, laughing heartily at the chapter called _Why Water Nymphs are not to be Trusted_. By the time I had finished, I realised I was very hungry. I had not eaten for two days.

Being a typical naiad, I immediately gravitated towards the nearest water source and caught a fish. I brought it back to the cave and cooked it over the fire. As I watched the flames crackle and spit, I felt warm and content, and realised that I did not want to leave the cave. Not yet, at least. I liked having somewhere to call home.

With a full stomach, I resumed cleaning the house. I moved the furniture around and chopped up a broken chair for firewood. All the furnishings that were beyond repair I took outside and buried in the soil. A portrait of a Faun with a long grey beard was hanging over the fireplace, but the canvas had been slashed diagonally. I did not know what to do with it. For a moment I considered burning it or burying it along with the other debris, but the Faun's eyes glared at me so accusingly that I did not feel I could bring myself to take the painting down. I left it in its place.

By the time the sun began to set, I had restored the cave to what I supposed had been its normal state before the arrest, minus a few items of furniture and a set of curtains. Nightfall found me sitting in front of the fire with the scarlet curtain fabric on my lap. I had discovered a needle and some thread in the bedroom and was turning the drapes into a dress. After all, I only had the garment I was wearing—the one I had worn at the battle—and it was torn in places, not to mention covered in smudges of dirt.

I spent another night in the cave, and ventured out into the wood the next day to collect more food and firewood. I found a small, cool hollow in the rock at the back of the cave where I stored several fat fish and some edible berries. Soon a day turned into a week, and then two weeks. Before I knew it I had been at the cave for an entire month, and was becoming quite the little homemaker. At first I feared that I was being far too conspicuous—surely a tree spirit or a wandering beast would spot me before long? I also worried that the light from the fireplace would be visible through the little window by the door. But nobody ever came. In fact, I did not encounter another living thing for the full four weeks, apart from the odd deer or watchful owl. As time went on I dropped my guard almost completely.

It was on the last night of the month that I was finally found out.

It must have been almost midnight. The spring air was warm and humid, and I was in a deep, dreamless sleep. Something woke me, and I gazed up at the ceiling through blurry eyes as I tried to work out what had happened. Then I heard a noise outside the cave. I sat up slowly and pushed the bedcovers off me, straining my ears. It was an odd sound, almost like lots of pots clanking together. I tiptoed across the room and pulled open the door a fraction. Through the little window at the front of the cave I could see nothing but darkness, punctuated by the odd shining star. I stood very still, listening as the noise drew nearer.

_Clank … clank … rustle …_

It sounded like somebody was walking towards the cave. Somebody carrying something heavy. An image of a warrior in armour with a great sword sprung to my mind. Panicked, I slipped on my red dress, darted into the room and grabbed the nearest heavy thing I could find—a saucepan. I hurried over to the door and stood behind it, clutching the handle of the saucepan with trembling hands. The noise grew louder and louder until, with a soft thud, the person outside dropped something to the ground.

There was a moment of silence. I held my breath. Then, the door was pushed open. I briefly glimpsed soft, brown curls and a moonlit profile before I brought the saucepan crashing down onto the intruder's head.


	3. Into the Wilderness

**Repentance**

_Chapter Three: Into the Wilderness_

Chewing my fingernails, I stared down at the unconscious Faun on the carpet. I had dragged him, whoever he was, over to the fireplace. He was now lying in front of the flames as though asleep. I was perched on the edge of the armchair, wondering what to do with him.

I couldn't tell whether this was the Faun called Tumnus or not. I supposed I would have to wait for him to wake up to find out. He looked reasonably young—perhaps around thirty or so—but I did not know how long Fauns lived or when they reached maturity. Half of him was decidedly human, apart from the curling horns and the little ears protruding from his hair. His lower half was goat-like, with dark furry legs and hooves, and, I noticed with a slight smirk, a tail. I reached my foot out and nudged him, but there was no reaction. He was well and truly out cold. I got up and left him there, thanking my lucky stars that he had not turned out to be a dangerous warrior or suchlike.

I ventured over to the door and peered outside. On the grass a metre or so away was a large bundle. I opened it hesitantly and found a multitude of pots and parcels inside. The Faun's belongings. I dragged the bundle into the cave and left it underneath the window, then I closed the door.

Half an hour later I was crouched next to the fire heating some fish soup, when I heard a soft groan from behind me. I turned my head and saw that the Faun was stirring. I took the soup off the fire and placed it on the floor just as his eyes flickered open. With a yelp, he scrambled away over the carpet and stood up, panting slightly and staring at me with wide eyes.

"You—_you_ hit me?" he said, as though astonished to see that I was nothing but a small, slightly slender, and certainly not very imposing female. He stared around at the cave in disbelief. "Am I dreaming?" He looked back at me and gave another yelp, pointing a finger accusingly. "What have you done with my curtains?"

I glanced down at my dress and started to speak, then thought better of it. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I looked back at him. "I—I'm sorry," I said, getting to my feet. "Is your name Tumnus?"

"Ye—" he started, then frowned and shot me a suspicious look. "Why, yes it is. How did you know that?"

"But you should be dead!" I exclaimed in surprise.

His eyebrows quirked skywards in puzzlement. "Should I?"

I hurried over to the bookcase and opened a drawer, taking out the notice of arrest I had found upon my arrival at the cave. I handed it to him and he read it in silence.

"Ah-ha! Yes, that." He scrunched up his nose as though there was a bad taste in his mouth and crumpled the parchment into a little ball. "That particular episode is perhaps best left in the past." He moved into the middle of the room and stared at the furniture, the fish in the corner, the repaired door, and the little homely touches I had added around the place such as the string of ivy over the mantelpiece. Finally, he stared at me.

"I don't mean to seem impertinent, but who—who are you?" he asked.

I fidgeted uncomfortably, fighting down the sense of dread that had replaced the sinking feeling in my stomach. "Sylvia," I muttered.

"Are you a Daughter of Eve?" he said, moving a little closer to me.

I scowled, causing him to take a sudden step back. "No, of course not!"

"Well," he said hesitantly, "what are you, then?"

"A naiad."

"To be sure! How silly of me," Tumnus said nervously, his gaze shifting fleetingly to _Nymphs and Their Ways_, which was sitting on one of the bookshelves. I felt sure he was remembering the chapter I had read and laughed at all those weeks ago.

As his gaze returned to me, the sense of dread in my stomach turned into a lead weight. I realised with a pang of unhappiness that Tumnus was the rightful owner of the house and that I … I was the intruder. I was going to have to leave.

"Will you allow me to gather my belongings before I go?" I asked, feeling the beginnings of tears prick the corners of my eyes. I had become so attached to the little cave that the thought of having to leave it deeply saddened me.

"Well—I—I—I'm sure we can think of _something_—" Tumnus began to say, but I was already miserably collecting my fish and stuffing it into a bag.

"No," I said thickly. "There isn't room for both of us, and you've probably lived here for years and years." I swallowed and crossed the room to collect my other dress from the bedroom.

"Not at all! That is to say—" Tumnus started, stepping out in front me.

I interrupted, brushing him aside. "Faun, I cannot stay here. Even if _you_ do not report my whereabouts, somebody will soon discover me. Besides," I continued, shooting him a sorrowful glance, "if you truly knew who I was, I am certain you would not want me here. I must leave immediately." Clutching a sack containing the food I had stored, my dress, and several other belongings I had acquired over the past four weeks, I teetered over to the entrance and stood on the threshold, gazing one last time at the interior of the cave. "Forgive me," I said, wiping a hand over my eyes.

Then I stepped out into the darkness.

When I reached the thicket of trees at the bottom of the grassy slope, I looked up at the cave. Tumnus was standing at the door, peering out at my retreating form. After a moment I turned back and continued on my way, cursing my foolishness. I had let myself become too fond of the cave. I should have realised that my presence would be discovered before long. I had been silly to believe I could stay there. Indeed, I had been lucky to remain there for as long as I did. I stumbled into the depths of the woodland, trying to form a coherent plan of action in my mind.

I had been walking for half the night. The first vestiges of dawn were beginning to appear in the sky above me when I heard the first howl. My skin tingled with fear as I slowed to a halt, looking around at the black branches of the trees. They swayed in the wind, offering no protection against the creatures that prowled beneath them. Another howl came, closer this time, and terror clawed at my stomach. I took off at a run, which, I realise now, was probably not the most sensible thing to do. The crashing and snapping of the foliage as I barrelled through it brought the wolves down upon me straight away, and I soon found myself trapped in a small clearing, with three slavering beasts creeping towards me through the gloom.

How was I going to get out of this one?


	4. A Pleasant Awakening

**Author's Note:** Many thanks for all the lovely reviews! Elizabeth Elf—these wolves are of the non-speaking kind, so they are pretty much regular (and very hungry!) animals.

* * *

**Repentance**

_Chapter Four: A Pleasant Awakening_

I felt sweat break out across my shoulders as the three wolves emerged from the trees and crept closer to me. I tried to shout, in the vain hope that somebody would hear and come to help me, but my voice came out only as a frightened gasp. I knew that if I turned and ran, they would be after me like a shot. I backed away slowly, my heart pounding, and almost stumbled over when my heel caught on something. Glancing down quickly, I saw that it was a large stick. It must have fallen from one of the trees. I swept it up into my hands and stood facing the wolves, trying to look intimidating.

Then one of them sprung.

I barely had time to swing the stick at the wolf before it bowled me over. I heard the animal whine. My weapon had obviously hit home. I had been thrown backwards onto the ground and was trying to pick myself up when the other two beasts appeared in the corners of my vision. I gave a shout and staggered to my feet, clutching the stick, just in time to see all three of the wolves leap at me. As I toppled backwards, I saw something brown and sharp whistle towards me through the trees. It buried itself in the flank of one of the wolves, and the creature fell away, yelping.

I, by that time, was on the floor with two wolves on top of me, and could feel my consciousness slowly slipping away. I felt sharp claws tear my dress, and then my skin. More yelps, and the weight of the animals lifted off me. The next second I felt a sharp pain in my neck and my vision swam. I remember a brief sensation of wanting to be sick, and then I knew nothing more.

* * *

I woke very slowly. To begin with I was only aware of a crackling noise nearby. Something about it tugged at my memory, but I was too groggy to form coherent thoughts. I felt warm air playing across my skin and something soft and damp being dabbed at my neck. I opened my eyes and saw the blurry outline of a face in front of me.

"Sylvia?"

The word took a moment to register. Everything—sounds, sights, feelings—seemed very far away. I tried to move but felt strong arms holding me back.

"Don't move; not yet," said the voice, and I realised abruptly that I recognised the speaker. It was the Faun.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to me. I remembered my panicked flight through the forest and the three wolves. I recalled the certainty I had felt that I was going to die, and the strange sensation of regret that had come over me before I had lost consciousness. I shook off the memory and tried to move again, pushing feebly against Tumnus' hands.

"Sylvia, please," he said briskly. "How am I going get you cleaned up if you will not sit still?"

I blinked at him and his face came into focus. I could see clearly now, and I turned my head slightly. I was in the cave. A fire was burning merrily in the grate, sending shadows dancing across the stone walls. The window showed a slightly gloomy sky slowly beginning to lighten as the sun crept up from beneath the horizon. The cave looked just the same as it had when I had left, except Tumnus had placed some grand-looking pots and crockery on the mantelpiece. There were also some new books on the shelves—large, ancient volumes that looked as though they had come from a great library.

Gradually my gaze lowered, and I saw that I was lying in the Faun's armchair. Tumnus was crouching next to me, bathing my neck in warm water. My dress—my new dress!—was torn in places, and I could see blood staining the neckline and one of the sleeves. One of my ankles throbbed painfully, and I winced.

"Am I hurting you?" Tumnus said, taking the cloth away.

I looked across at him. "N-no, it's—it's my ankle."

"Ah." He nodded regretfully. "One of the brutes landed on it when it died, I think. I had to drag him off. I do not think it is broken, but you might have trouble walking for a few days."

I stared. "You … you _killed_ them?"

A faint blush crept into his cheeks, and he gazed fixedly at my neck as though inspecting it. "Only one of them. Here, will you hold this while I change the water?"

My fingers closed around the cloth. I watched him walk over to the door and empty the basin onto the ground outside. The water was red with blood, and, seeing it, I hesitantly put a hand to my neck. When I found the wound I whimpered in pain and shock. A fairly deep cut ran from just below my ear down to my collarbone. Black spots swam before my eyes and I felt a little faint. When Tumnus returned with a basin full of clean water, he gently drew my hand away and resumed his task, humming softly to himself.

I had not encountered kindness of this sort in all my years. At the Queen's Castle, everyone had lived with the knowledge that a wrong step could lead to certain death—or a long stint as a stone statue, at least. You simply had to take care of yourself. It was the only kind of life I knew, and as such Tumnus' rescue had shaken me to the core. I continued to stare at him in the gathering dawn glow, watching the light from the fire dance over his brown curls.

Eventually, when the flames had burnt low, the room had become cold and my eyelids were beginning to droop, I felt the Faun draw away from the chair.

"You look very tired," he said. "Here, I'll help you to the bed."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak I felt him lift me from the chair onto my feet. I felt an immediate shooting pain in my ankle, and gasped. Tumnus' concerned face appeared in front of me.

"Can you manage?"

I clutched his shoulder and took a hesitant step forward, my fingernails digging into his skin. If it hurt him, he did not let it show. Together we made it to the bedroom, and I fell wearily onto the soft covers. There were so many questions I wanted to ask Tumnus. What had he come after me for? How had he killed the wolf? Why was he being so hospitable towards an intruder—and a rude one at that? I was sure there were questions he wanted to ask me, too, but I knew they would have to wait. I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me and I drifted into a deep sleep, grasping onto consciousness just long enough to feel soft hands tuck a blanket over me.


	5. Something Worth Saving

**Repentance**

_Chapter Five: Something Worth Saving_

I woke that afternoon to the tantalising smell of frying sardines. I heard the spit and crackle of the fire on the other side of the bedroom door and knew that Tumnus was cooking lunch. As I forced my tired eyes open and extracted myself with difficulty from the bedcovers, I tried to gauge how long I had been sleeping for. The sky had been tinged with dawn's pale glow when I had regained consciousness that morning, so I guessed I had been in bed for at least six hours. My ankle throbbed dully as I lowered my feet to the cold floor, and I sat still for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside.

I could hear Tumnus singing softly to himself as I crossed the room to the mirror opposite the bed. Leaning on the dresser, I took the weight off my ankle and inspected my reflection. I looked terrible. My face was drawn, flecked with dirt, and even paler than usual. My dark hair was matted; it hung past my narrow, bony shoulders in sad-looking tendrils. My eyes, normally a striking shade of ebony, seemed to have lost their intensity. They gazed back at me, washed-out and sleepy.

There was a small tin bath in the corner of the room. Next to it was a stone jug and a pile of soft rags. I felt a sudden urge to wash myself—and my clothes—clean. My dresses were stained and my skin was even worse. I picked up the jug and approached the bedroom door. Opening it a fraction and peering into the cave beyond, I saw that Tumnus had gone. I heard him shifting some firewood outside on the grass. Quickly, I slipped in and filled the jug with hot water from the pot over the fire. Resisting the temptation to grab a couple of sardines as I passed the table, I returned to the bedroom, shut the door, poured the steaming water into the bath, and proceeded to scrub myself spotless.

When I had finished, and my white skin was stinging from the vigorous scouring I had given it, I relaxed and let my eyes drift closed. My webbed fingers flexed in the water and I sighed in contentment. It felt wonderful.

Then my thoughts turned to the events of the last two days. I could hardly believe I was back in my cave—_no_, I corrected myself regrettably, _the Faun's cave_—after having convinced myself I would have to leave. I was willing to bet Tumnus would insist on me staying until I was fully healed. I was immensely grateful to him, but I could not help wondering what he would say if he knew of my past, and whether he would alert the authorities. And then there was the nagging voice in my head that would not stop reminding me of the Faun's allegiance. His folk had killed Jadis, and I doubted I would ever be able to forgive them.

I was jerked abruptly from my musings by the sound of the door opening. Cursing myself for not thinking to put a chair up against it, I quickly curled into a crouch and hid behind the side of the bath. I peeked over the edge just in time to lock eyes with Tumnus, who had entered carrying a tray of sardines. When he saw me, he jumped and almost dropped the food. I raised my head slightly, so that only my face was visible over the top of the tub.

"So—so sorry," Tumnus was stammering, backing hastily out of the door with cheeks aflame. I squirmed uncomfortably as he disappeared from sight, and instantly felt so guilty that I grabbed the largest of the cloths from the pile, wrapped myself in it, and set about getting dressed. When I had brushed the worst of the dirt from my dress and washed off the rest with a damp rag, I slipped it on and hobbled out into the cave, grasping the furniture for support.

Tumnus was standing at the fire. When he caught sight of me he jumped back as though burned.

"Oh—oh—you didn't have to—" he started to say, backing away from me.

"It's all right," I said. "I was finished anyway."

He blinked, not seeming to know what to say. He hovered near the window, looking very awkward.

"I _do_ apologise," I said unhappily. "It was entirely my fault. I should have—I don't know—warned you, perhaps."

He shook his head. "No, really—"

But I ignored him. "This is not working. I really should leave, shouldn't I?"

Tumnus put out his hands, still shaking his head, and came a little closer to me. "No, not at all. I forbid it. You _must_ stay here until you have recovered."

I stared at him for a moment. I was torn between wanting to remain at the cave—it was, after all, a safe haven—and wanting to escape as soon as possible to avoid discovery.

"Why are you so eager to leave?" Tumnus asked quietly, a slight frown etched onto his face.

I hesitated, then let out a breath and shot him a rare smile. "I am not. You have been so kind to me. I just—I just don't want to be a burden."

He seemed satisfied with this explanation, and returned the smile. "Nothing could be further from the truth," he said, walking over to the fire. "Now, do you want some lunch?"

Trying to calm my nerves, I graciously accepted the offer. We both sat down at the table to eat, and soon Tumnus was telling me all about the previous night's adventure. The brown flash I had seen before I lost consciousness had been an arrow. As it turned out, he had come after me out of sheer curiosity—after all, it wasn't every day you came home and found that someone had been living there in your absence—and had heard the howls. He had rushed back for his bow and quiver and had arrived at the scene just in time to see the three beasts fly at me. He had killed one and the others had fled.

"Well, I must say," I remarked when he had finished, "you were very brave."

He shook his head modestly as he leaned over to pour me another cup of tea. "I am not brave at all. Anybody would have done it."

"Not for me," I said, thinking of the dog-eat-dog life I had lived at the Witch's Castle.

Tumnus paused, his hand halfway to my teacup. He glanced at me, holding my gaze for several seconds. Then he said, "I think you are worth saving, Sylvia."

After that I did not speak of the wolf incident. We finished our drinks in silence, listening to the birds chirping outside in the trees, and afterwards I helped him clean up the crockery. His words circled around and around in my mind for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, but it was not until late that night when I was tucked up in Tumnus' bed—he had insisted on sleeping in the armchair again—that I understood why.

Somebody cared for me.

Nobody had cared for me since my mother's death, and I had only been a young nymph when she passed away. I had cared for my sisters in a sense, of course, but they were not my real sisters (I was an only child; it was merely a name given to us by the Queen, presumably because it made it easier to refer to us as a group). The sort of care we had felt for each other was practical and impersonal. It was useful to have somebody watching your back, so we stayed together. It all came down to personal gain.

The realisation that Tumnus cared for me—the sort of care that is not selfish and has nothing to do with convenience—bathed me in a strange, warm glow, and I soon began to slide into a light slumber.

Perhaps being friends with a Faun was not all that bad, after all.


End file.
